


we're single but we're lovers

by fairydustedtheory



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, M/M, No Strings Attached, except all the strings are actually attached
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24506626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairydustedtheory/pseuds/fairydustedtheory
Summary: It was just supposed to be something casual
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 12
Kudos: 260





	we're single but we're lovers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iRavenish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iRavenish/gifts).



> First fic written for Songfic Fest 2020. 
> 
> Based on the song "Casual Sex" by My Darkest Days, for the prompt :  
> "Plot twist, it was never just sex for them. Possibly someone hitting on Stiles in front of Derek so he starts acting protective or even possessive."  
>    
> I listened to the song A LOT, I have honestly no idea how it gave birth to something that feels sort of soft? I don't know, hopefully this isn't too disappointing.  
>   
> Find me on [tumblr](https://fairydustedtheory.tumblr.com/tagged/plot-twist-%3A-i-write)

The gradual rise of the sunlight flowing through the windows of the loft hit his side of the bed before anything else in the room. Stiles woke up in Derek's arms. That was something he loved here, waking up on Sunday morning his entire body aching and sore.

His first thought was always something along the line of _"will I always feel like this?"_

Wondering if that was what his life had led up to, would always lead up to, the blissful awareness of a morning leaving his body tired and happy and fulfilled in a way that nothing and no one could ever offer him, but this man right here.

Stiles turned slowly onto his back to watch him, hyper aware of each of his movement, each beat of his heart. So careful not to wake him. Werewolves could wake from only the rustle of sheets, especially with the life they've had. He was always on high alert. But not with Stiles, not anymore. It was a thing between them, Derek could sleep through. 

The weekend was going exactly per usual. This thing wasn't new, Stiles could even say it was long-standing. Some sort of agreement they never mentioned out loud. It wasn't anything official, but Sunday mornings usually went this way.

  
If no one was out there chasing monsters, if nothing was happening on Saturday night, then this was exactly what happened. Every damn time.

  
Friday nights were for these random fucks they were supposed to be having to prove to themselves that this thing between them wasn't actually a thing. Just casual, no strings attached, just good old fucking. Friday nights were for clubbing and random hand jobs in back alleys and maybe Derek brought people home and fucked them senseless.

Maybe.

Stiles couldn't know either way, he probably didn't care much either.

Not much.

  
Friday nights were for going out roaming the gay street, the gay club, Grindr dates and whatnot. All the things Stiles was supposed to be doing but wasn’t really. The clubbing part, getting a little too drunk, grinding on bodies on the dance floor, making out with some hot strangers a few times too, yes. He did indulge in that. But the rest, not so much.

  
He would never admit to it though. He wouldn’t say that he’d rather not fuck anyone on Fridays because he knew exactly who he was going to be doing on Saturdays.

  
Because yes, Saturday nights, the best of nights, were clearly established for some required indoor activities for just the two of them. Derek's loft being the main center of action, but Stiles' tiny studio too from time to time. The occasional balcony or even back porch of the sheriff's house once, were the exception to the rule of indoor activities only. Although, even then, the activity was of the same caliber but just a little bit more outdoorsy.

There also was a very inconsequential hookup in the forest that one time when they had randomly met on their jog one morning but that hadn’t been a Saturday. It had been a Wednesday which made it the exception and not the rule. That day didn’t count, because Derek and Stiles were Saturday people only. The scratches the bark made on Stiles’ ass had bothered him for days though. Stiles had had to dodge the questioning looks from his colleagues for the rest of the week because he couldn't sit without cringing. Totally worth it though. He had not been able to get Derek off his mind, the ghost of him still lingering on his body.

  
No restaurant date, no going out for drinks, no Netflix and chill. The only chills were from the cold night air when Derek had left the window by the fire escape open. Oh and that one time Stiles thought it’d be fun to spice things up with ice cream. Yeah that had be a little bit of a messy disaster. But fuck the sex had been great.

The sex was always great.

How could it not be? Stiles would like to know how. Derek was some hot piece of werewolf ass. Handsome, sexy, perfect, gorgeous, fit and every other synonyms anyone could come up with for a body like Derek’s.

Life was unfair. Stiles had no choice but to succumb.

  
Derek, for all of his neuroses and fucked-up trauma, was an incredible man. Stiles had known that early on, but now it was undeniable to anyone. Derek was caring in a sense that was beyond compare. Caring for the pack, for the human population, for the territory and the town.

He cared for Stiles too in a sense even if his heart was just not in that place, might never be in that place.

  
Stiles could only understand. There was just so much shit someone could go through. And this was fine, this was more than fine. Stiles was cool with how things were. That way he had his freedom and he had some of the most mind blowing sex anyone could ever dream of having.

Nothing to complain about.

This was somehow the best part of it, right here waking up before Derek early on Sunday morning, watching his chest slowly rising and falling, his eyelashes casting a soft shadow on his cheeks, the disarray of his hair on the pillow.

The few times Derek got up sporting the best case of bed hair, Stiles had laughed all morning. And he would laugh again, laugh until Derek pushed him out the door of the loft and into the elevator, with that stupid fond curl on the corner of his lips, because Stiles was just stupid, wasn’t he?

And Stiles would stand there as the elevator doors closed, wondering how the world had ever gave birth to someone so beautiful. So charming. So fleetingly Stiles’.

Fuck.

  
Derek’s breathing was deep, just a steady rhythm. The subtle wheezing noise coming off his half parted lips was echoing through the room, maybe echoing through Stiles' heart too. He had realized a while ago that the trouble he had always had with falling asleep, all that made it so difficult, didn't exist here with that sound next to him.

And also the exhaustion of a body well spent. That helped too.

  
Stiles couldn't help but wrap an arm around Derek. He turned his face into Derek's shoulder, against his chest. Hopefully, he wouldn't wake up yet, not too soon, let Stiles have his moment here.

In a few ephemeral seconds all the walls would rise back up, but not right now. Stiles was free to enjoy the moment, nuzzling at Derek's skin. He enjoyed basking in his warmth. He enjoyed stealing his scent. He enjoyed collecting every tiny little pieces of him just to keep them safe in Stiles' heart.

All of that in secret.

  
Stiles sighed. This life worked. It wasn't bittersweet. It was just sweet, no bitterness to it. Not right now.

  
As Stiles moved to sit up, Derek's fingers slipped down his spine, gently stroking the skin at the low of his back. Derek was still asleep, Stiles wasn't even sure he was aware that he was touching him, but this wasn't a surprise. It wasn't the first time Stiles had noticed it.

  
Derek kept touching him, always was touching him in a way. Even with the pack, even when it wasn't Saturday night or Sunday morning. Derek did it without thought, and Stiles noticed every damn time. It wasn't like he was touch-starved, no Stiles was very well fucked, that wasn't the thing here.

There was probably something to say about the way it was just natural, the way Derek could sleep through it or carry out any sort of conversation with anyone about anything while his fingers found a way to meet Stiles' skin, the way Stiles' heart wasn't even jumping when it happened, just let it, let Derek's warm hands find their desired path on his skin, even with people around when this thing between them was unspoken and unofficial.

  
They all knew, werewolf noses and all that but it wasn't a thing so they never spoke of it. They didn't even question Derek's hand playing with the waist of Stiles' jeans from time to time, even slipping under it sometimes.

Anytime Stiles was near enough for him to reach, Derek's hands touched. It was like it was a requirement.

Maybe there was a law written about it somewhere. Stiles had slept through a few classes back in college, he might have missed that very important one stating that Derek Hale's hands belonged on Stiles Stilinski's body. Always.

As a lawful citizen, who was Stiles to disobey? He was going to abide by this law. Abide by it, body and soul and just let Derek's hands do what they pleased and what Stiles pleased too.

Derek opened his eyes slowly, studied Stiles' face for a minute as his hands kept mindlessly petting Stiles' back in long strokes. Stiles was getting hard by the second. Again, who could blame him? Derek was here in all his naked glory, touching him, soft and warm, and also hard.

Yeah okay, that worked.  
  


Sunday morning sex was always a nice little addition to the whole Saturday fuck fest. Sunday morning sex was often lazy and just on the side of gentle that would make a non-connoisseur feel like making love. Stiles wouldn't let himself go there though. First he hated that expression, and second he wouldn't let himself think of that word or that emotion.

  
That wasn't what this was.

  
They had been clear about it. That wouldn't change, no matter the amount of cuddles and snuggles and early Sunday morning sex turning into Sunday afternoons sometimes when Derek felt insatiable and Stiles was very happy to oblige him.

No matter how many times Stiles had made a point of not letting Derek rest even a second, teasing him relentlessly from the moment he opened the door to the moment he left, getting him hard again in a minute after each orgasm. Because _fuck werewolf healing,_ Stiles was going to keep this going, keep it on-going so Derek couldn't heal himself, so that Derek felt it just as strongly as Stiles was, so that Derek felt just a little bit too human, so that Stiles was in control for the both of them, so that each bruise and each mark Stiles was putting on Derek's skin would take longer to fade, would maybe stay there until Stiles finally closed his eyes, both of them exhausted equally.

No matter if Stiles couldn't really stand anymore by the end of it and would feel it for the whole week until Saturday turned up again. Not matter if it left his body feeling like maybe it didn't belong solely to him anymore. His body was living proof of what happened in here, in this man's arms.

  
No matter if he had to pretend this wasn't actually a thing.

  
Nothing mattered really but this instant right here and the way Derek reached for Stiles' ass to squeeze it, barely but still, staring at Stiles with these droopy, sleepy eyes, and that wicked curl on his lips. The stupid curl on his lips that Stiles could never resist.

  
This was a safe territory for the both of them. They had no problem handling the sex part, communicating through it whatever they had to communicate on.  
Emotional confessions weren't a thing at all.

  
It had started like that. They were at the club one Saturday night, months ago, almost a year ago, celebrating Scott's bachelor party because of course Scott had to tie the knot as soon as they had graduated. The kid had a whole life plan and being bitten and turning into a wolf every full moon (and other times too) wasn't anything to stop him. Good for him and all his life plans.  
Stiles wasn't like that anymore. Stiles had been very happy getting drunk on very average alcohol without having to slip any wolfsbane into any of his drinks. He had been very happy to dance his way through the dance floor while all the wolves were sitting at the booth deep in werewolf conversation or something.

  
That night, there had just been something hidden in the way Derek had stretched out his arms and pushed away the guy who had been grinding against Stiles. There had just been something in the way Stiles had felt in that one moment all these months ago, locking eyes with Derek as he had pushed away a guy who had clearly been hitting on Stiles and who had clearly been hoping for more than just grinding on a dance floor. Stiles could have had defended that dude's claim, could have told Derek to fuck off with all his protective instincts. But he hadn't, because in all truths that random guy had no claim on Stiles, not when Derek had been there to push him away and had taken his place.

If Stiles had to belong to anyone that night, it had had to be Derek. Stiles had just been a little too intoxicated and the flashing lights had been just a little too dizzying.  
There had just been something about the way Derek's gaze had turned from predatory and hungry to just something Stiles hadn't quite been able to decipher when he had hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Derek's pants and pulled him flush against himself.

Maybe Stiles' joy had been contagious, maybe it had just felt right on the moment and kept feeling right all through the night, both of them mumbling a never-ending mantra of "this doesn't mean" "that's not" "no definitely not" turning quickly into something along the lines of "fuck me please harder."  
Yeah Stiles had been loud and apparently Derek had lived for it.

It was supposed to only be that one time. Not really a mistake but definitely not something to reiterate.

Except they did.

They did reiterate over and over and over, all over the loft, all over that tiny studio Stiles had rented coming home from college because he felt too adult to go back to live with his dad now.

Fuck, they christened every damn surface and they kept at it because once on every surface wasn't enough.

  
Even now, they weren't out of that horny "take me now" stage, where Derek would be on him the second Stiles pushed the sliding door open. They would fuck right then and there against the wall or on the floor on Saturday nights, the door not even locked, not even closed all the way, because how could they possibly wait the minute it would take for them to get to the bedroom, act like functional people with brains ? No they didn't have any brains at all when it came to this.

There were bottles of lube in every damn drawer of the loft because that was a necessity. If the apocalypse was to come, they would be able to fill their end of the world bunker with bottles of lube and they would fuck each other brainless until the sun exploded.

That seemed like a perfect way to go. 

  
The only conversation, if it could even be called a conversation, they ever had about this was to tell each other that this couldn’t be a thing. They didn’t need to go into the details because Stiles could very well fill in the blanks. He knew Derek like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what sex could and couldn’t mean to Derek. He knew exactly how Derek’s heart worked.

Stiles had been confident in his heartbeat when he had said that all of it was fine with him. He was only going for a little bit of fun and he was able to get that with Derek because in all of Stiles’ trust issues, Derek, he fully trusted.

That was why he could let himself go so completely and why this was so fucking good. Nothing could ever feel as good because Stiles would never trust anyone so unquestionably.

It was almost his undoing, the kisses Derek placed on Stiles’ skin, the feel of Derek’s lips on his neck and all the praises that stumbled out of Derek’s mouth sometimes when he just couldn’t contain how amazing it felt for him too. These were some of the things Stiles kept with him, always, every day of the week until it was Saturday night again.

Saturday nights were the only tanks of oxygen in the drowning ship of Stiles' delusions.

  
On Saturday nights it wasn't hard to let himself think that this was just sex, because it was sex. The other days, the days he actually missed seeing Derek, or even when he saw him but wasn't with him, wasn't close to him but for these stolen little touches of which Derek seemed unaware, these days, these weeks were the hard part.

“What are you thinking about? Your heart rate is rising.” Derek said, voice hoarse from sleep.

“I was thinking about your dick.” Stiles lied.   
“Okay,” Derek replied noncommittally.  
“Yeah, listen, I was thinking about your dick. And how your dick and I are pals. Best bros and all that. Yeah your dick might be my favorite between the two of you.” Stiles shrugged, a hand reaching to greet said best bro and welcome his weight and length against his fingers tips. “I’m not even joking. That dick is always happy to see me, there is no judgy eyebrows involved. Oh my god can you imagine a dick with eyebrows?!” Stiles was laughing then.

  
Derek didn't answer, just rolled his eyes very slowly and intently as Stiles kept laughing, head falling against Derek’s chest trying to muffle the laugh as well as the shake of his body against Derek’s skin. Stiles was pretty sure this was the stupidest mental imagine he had ever had.

Derek cupped Stiles' chin to tilt his head up to look at him for some reason, see that goofy grin on Stiles' face, and that somewhat glazed-over look of someone having been well-fucked as unmistakable as the hickeys on his neck. 

"I'm going to make us some coffee, okay?" Stiles said, leaning up to give Derek a quick little kiss, almost painfully chaste after the filthy athletics of the previous night. 

  
Derek's eyes traveled and lingered on those red burns on Stiles' shoulder, the ones from Derek's scruffy chin, those red burns that Derek seemed so incline on making every damn time, to mark Stiles as his it seemed, to leave Stiles enjoying the seeping soreness of them for days.

Stiles slipped out of bed, absolutely naked, no shame to be had here, these curved half-moon bruises on his hips were Derek's masterpiece to admire.

The domesticity of it should feel strange, but Stiles made coffee on pack nights and he felt at ease in Derek's loft more than he did in his own studio. Derek knew that. Stiles never tried to hide it. He even helped the guy decorate the place at some point, forcing him to get actual furniture. All of it had been done very casually of course. This wasn't like Stiles was trying to make a home here.

Why was there a slight tightness in his chest all of a sudden? Why did that thought almost make his heart skip a beat? 

"Are you okay?" Derek asked when Stiles stepped back in the bedroom, a mug in each hand.

Ah could Stiles ever truly escaped prying werewolf senses? 

He found a great way to change the subject, or turn the morning into something which definitely wasn't talking at all. This worked both ways, this unspoken truth between them.

Fuck it worked really well.

"I'll see you when I'll see you," Stiles smirked, scratching down his neck, fingers pressing deliberately on on of the bigger bruises he knew he had there just above his collarbone.

He was about to slide the loft door closed around 5pm that day, and Derek had followed him to the door, was hovering a little more each time it seemed sometimes.

Maybe Stiles closing that door did something to Derek's heart too, but who knew?

  
*-*-*

  
Friday night rolled around, Stiles was going out for a guys' night out. Something to take his mind off some of the thoughts of _Derek, Derek, Derek_ he couldn't seem to shake.

  
Liam was wearing a ridiculous neon colored leather crop top. Stiles only narrowed his eyes at him with a deep frown, that kid was just something else. One of them said something about him losing a bet. Okay that made more sense.

They were here to have a good time. But more importantly Stiles was here to have a good time, to prove to himself and to anyone with eyes that he was a single unattached man. That it was more than fine with him.

He quickly abandoned his companions and wandered to lose himself in the crowd.

He threw himself into it, being young and free under the lazer lights.

Some hot guy came quickly to rub himself against Stiles.

That was becoming a trend now, Stiles exulted confidence and sex appeal because that was what being with Derek turned him into. Well, not being with Derek, but fucking with Derek. Because if someone as hot as Derek could want him then surely others would too.

And they did. They did want him. Random fucks and random handjobs or blowjobs or any kind of jobs would have been a thing in Stiles' life if he ever felt like going for it, back alleys and back rooms were there for this very purpose.

He could have gone for it. Maybe he should. Maybe he should just to prove to himself that he could.

But did he want to? Did he want to feel some stranger's hands on him, to feel the press of foreign fingers on the yellowed bruises left there on his skin by a very particular someone who was very much not a stranger?

The guy was already throwing a triumphant glance around the room because Stiles just seemed that easy to win over, it seemed.

Was Stiles supposed to hail to the conquering hero after just one stupid dance? Nah-ah, that wouldn't be happening.

Stiles didn't even see Derek in the crowd, didn't even know he was coming tonight, didn't even register his eyes following Stiles' every move with a very deliberate look.

What Stiles did see was Derek's forearm coming in between the guy and him. The fact that Stiles actually recognized Derek by his forearm alone, was already enough to make his alcohol brain tick just a little.

  
The whole scene was so déjà vu, it could have been funny. Stiles could have laughed.

Derek growled something that Stiles didn't understand and the guy ran away his tail between in legs.

"Well, well. Isn't that mister Derek Hale, out here in this club? Surprise surprise." Stiles greeted him with a smirk.

"Hey," Derek said, just a little too quietly too hear over the loud thump thump of the music, but Stiles was intently staring so his mind supplied him with the sound even if he hadn't actually heard the word.

"Had that poor guy done anything to you? A bad lay maybe? In which case, thanks for saving me." Stiles leaned close to whisper in Derek' ear even if Derek had no problem hearing him at all. Stupid werewolf senses.

"Don't know him, don't want to." Derek gritted out between his teeth.

"My, oh my, are you... what's the word? Jealous?" Stiles leaned back to look him in the eyes. The alcohol in his veins definitely a little to blame for that mischievous feeling pumping through him and that overconfidence too.

 _"Stiles."_ Derek scowled.

"Nope, don't Stiles me." Stiles shook his head. "Did I black out? Are we already Saturday night? Or are we still Friday..."

Derek stayed silent, it was just as well because Stiles was just a little too drunk to focus on a real conversation right now.

"Because I think it's Friday, and that's what Fridays are for, aren't they?"

"I heard your heart." Derek frowned.

"Well, good for you, as far as I know it's still beating, that's a thing that happens when you're alive, you know?" Stiles licked his lips because, damn, Derek was incredibly hot right now.

Derek's eyes grew darker as they dropped to Stiles' mouth following the movement.

"You thought about going with him." Derek stated, raising his voice just for Stiles to hear.

That crinkle on the forehead, so incredibly endearing that Stiles kept staring at it instead of looking into Derek's eyes, not certain he wanted to see what was to see in there.

"I'd be allowed, if it were true, wouldn't I be? Unless we're having the talk we've been avoiding to have for months and now you have something to say about it." Stiles glanced at him from under his eyelashes, tilting his head to the side and revealing some on the almost faded bruises there.

There was a rumble in Derek's chest, Stiles was only aware of it because one of his hand had mysteriously found a way to rest right there, feeling Derek's lungs expand with each breath.

"What would it do if I did?" Stiles continued. "Because I know that you know. If I had any doubt that you would know, your reaction these, what, three or four times? that I dared kiss someone else on this very dance floor for not even a minute, Derek, your reaction was so telling. The next day, you'd kiss me like you wanted to erase them from my soul. I know that you know that I haven't been with anyone else, because you'd have shattered me before putting me back together, for me to absolutely forget what that other person would have possibly felt like. And that is just not fair, because I don't know, I wouldn't know, I wouldn't be able to smell them on you, I wouldn't be able to see their marks on you, _I wouldn't know._ I should be okay with that, because that was the deal -if we ever had any sort of deal- that was the deal. I don't want to be naive and assume that you haven't. You could have and I wouldn't have known. Have you? - _Shit,_ I shouldn't ask that." Stiles shook his head, blinking to clear his head. "I'm just going to blame this all on alcohol tomorrow. You'll have to promise to let me blame it all on being too intoxicated. It's okay if you have, _it's okay if you have_ , but tell me, I wanna know, have you?" He couldn't help but ask again.

Derek was standing very still in the middle of the dance floor, his shoulders tensed, his expression still guarded. Clearly he hadn't planned on having this conversation right now, welcome on the shit train, Stiles thought he was going out to have a good time not to stand there breaking his own stupid heart.

"I haven't." Derek answered simply.

Stiles took in a sharp breath as a wave of relief flooded him.

"Okay." He breathed. There was nothing to be done against the foolish grin splitting his face."It's shitty that you know what I feel right now hearing you say that. I'd very much like to pretend I wasn't so fucking glad. God, I was ready, I was ready to pretend that my heart wasn't being ripped out, that my soul wasn't being torn apart, that my organs weren't being ground to dust, that my vital energy wasn't curling into fucking knots at the thought of you being with anyone else. Shit, I'm going to blame all this rambling mess, blame it all on alcohol. This is all Piña Colada's fault. Everything feels so hazy, it's so foggy, look at that."

"It's the fog machine." Derek deadpanned, with one of these little curl of the lips.

"Shut up." Stiles countered, but Derek's curl of lips was also very contagious.

"Shut up and dance... or?" Derek arched an eyebrow. What an idiot, what an ass.

"Oh my God. What have you turned into?" Stiles exclaimed with a flail of arms.

  
Derek grinned, catching him and bringing him flush against him, closing the gap between them and kissing him, tongue slipping right in like it belonged there, wet and filthy and demanding.

  
"Does this mean -"

"Yes. Not just on Saturdays. Not just on the weekends. Always. I should have told you that as soon as I realized it." Derek stared at him with a look so tender Stiles could feel his knees about to give out.

"Oh, fuck me." Stiles said, incredulous.

Derek chuckled and leaned down to kiss him again.

"No, I mean, literally. Do you have lube on you? Because I really need you to fuck me right here and now. That's how crazy you drive me." Stiles smiled in between kisses.

"I don't have anything." Derek admitted. Well, yeah, none of them was actually planning on fucking anyone tonight. "But there's still something I can do." 

Derek grabbed Stiles' hand and pulled him toward the back room of the club. 

They found some dark corner where no one was really looking. The volume of the music too loud for anyone to hear them, except for the wolves still somewhere in the main room of the club, but neither of them seemed to really care if the wolves heard them at the moment.

Derek's skilled hands seemed to know with exactitude where to roam all over Stiles' body to leave him overheated and breathless. In a second, Derek was able to make him hard and begging for more, so much more.

They kissed for what seemed like an eternity before Derek finally dropped to his knees in front of Stiles.

"Fuck," Stiles whispered, as Derek took him into his mouth.

Stiles gave a careful little thrust, restraining himself, waiting more but ready to follow Derek's lead here. It didn't take long for Derek to position his head so he could take him all the way in, all the way down. Stiles felt Derek's warm hands at his hips urging him on, giving him permission to move, opening himself even more for Stiles to fuck as hard and fast as he wanted.

To fuck Derek’s face as hard as he wanted right here in the back room of that stupid club where it had all started, all these months ago. Stiles was standing there, vibrating with everything going on, thriving with the knowledge that he could fuck Derek's throat as deep as he wanted. Allowed to go as fast as he wanted, for as long as he wanted-

His orgasm took him by surprise, with so much force that he almost fell down, if not for the wall behind him and Derek's hand still caressing his hipbones, ready to steady him the second he needed them to. Stiles' body bent forward, almost collapsing on Derek who was still there on his knees in front of him.

Stiles buried his fingers in Derek's hair, holding on, clutching Derek to him, senseless and moaning. His body still convulsing with pleasure, holding on to the only thing, the only person that truly mattered, the only person he dared believe was his. Derek. No one else.

Never anyone else.

Nothing casual about it. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the story, consider leaving a kudo/comment.  
> Find me on [tumblr](https://fairydustedtheory.tumblr.com/tagged/plot%20twist%20:%20i%20write)


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